


Falling

by winterswept



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Love, Pre-Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:51:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18752155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterswept/pseuds/winterswept
Summary: The girl sitting cross-legged against the front door rose to greet her friend.“Mair!” She beamed. And then seeing him moving closer—“Oh no, you won’t want to touch me like this—I’ve been running around in the woods all day, and that was only after—”Ignoring her deftly as always, Numair swept his student up in a bear hug, lingering an extra second before letting go.





	Falling

Numair trekked up the dirt path to his tower, squinting to make out the figure who had disturbed his protection spells. A few steps closer, and he broke out in a smile.

“Daine!”

The girl sitting cross-legged against the front door rose to greet her friend.

“Mair!” She beamed. And then seeing him moving closer— “Oh no, you won’t want to touch me like this—I’ve been running around in the woods all day, and that was only after—”

Ignoring her deftly as always, Numair swept his student up in a bear hug, lingering an extra second before letting go. “How’d you end up here, magelet? I heard you had a part in that brush-up yesterday down at Rank’s Peak.”

“I did, actually,” she said, smiling sheepishly as Numair opened the door to let them inside. “That’s partly why I came here. I’m s’posed to show up at that banquet they’re holding over at the Swoop, but I’ve been two weeks camping and now fighting and I haven’t had a proper wash. Would it be all right if I—?”

Looking at her now, Numair saw she really was more mussed than the usual. The flyaways in her hair were nothing new, but today there were definitely more than a few flakes of dirt sprinkled in. Not to mention the state of her clothes.

“Of course.”

 

___

 

Daine emerged from the washroom in a long black accordion skirt and silk blue top, her wet hair tied up firmly in a twist. When she spotted Numair sitting with a stack of papers in front of him at his kitchen table she frowned.

“Why’d you change your shirt?” And then realizing, and putting her hands on her hips. Her mouth twisted. “Well, I did tell you not to hug me.”

“It’s no matter,” he replied, tugging at the sleeve of his newly spotless top. “But look at you, all cleaned up. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen your hair up like that. It looks nice.”

“Raina taught me,” she sighed, slouching down into the chair next to him. “The new castle dressmaker. She’s taken me on as a sort of project. Turns out there’s all these easy things you can do to look all fancy without really worrying about it, and I’m ripe for the learning of ’em. All you do for this one is braid first, then tie it up in a circle and pull on some of the pieces.” She reached out and tugged his own horsetail teasingly. “I can teach you if you want.”

His eyes danced. “Maybe next time.”

“So does that mean you’re not coming to this shindig tonight?”

Numair held up the papers, and a silver mirror sitting next to them that she knew he used often for scrying. “Jon’s got me on a tight leash today. There’s some suspicious activity in the southern lands that I’m to look into. Exquisitely cooked meals and pleasant colloquy are strictly forbidden until I get to the bottom of it.”

“Hmm, all right then. But mind you don’t get caught up in your scrying and forget to eat dinner again. Or maybe I can stash away some of those little layered meat pastries you like in my satchel. I have to pass back here on my way home tomorrow anyway. Does Jon have rules against your eating day-old canapés?”

He smiled warmly. “None that I know of. Thank you, Daine.”

“Of course.” She caught his gaze and fell into holding it, watching his expression, one second, then another. A breath in.

When he broke contact abruptly Daine felt woozy, like she’d been spinning in circles and righted herself suddenly, felt all the blood rushing to her head. She saw Numair rise and moved quickly to right herself and copy him. He reached for a quick embrace, making her promise to recap the evening’s interest for him on her visit tomorrow before she set off on her journey home to the capital. With that, he swept her toward the door.  
  


___

 

Two weeks later, Alanna returned home to the Swoop for the first time since her notorious spat with the king earlier that month. Flags were raised; children and husband were kissed. A certain royal’s name, along with the concept of a “probationary period,” was referenced with words some might consider unbefitting the seat of a barony. Alanna couldn’t help but appreciate the comforts of being home.

And she also had a promise to keep. Once she’d spent a few days with her family Alanna mounted Darkmoon and headed down the road to visit Numair. She’d received a slightly cryptic letter from him while she’d been errant, but not thought much of it. Numair’s letters were often opaque.

“You said you had something to ask me,” she began, palming her glass of wine and stretching an arm around the back of his sofa. Numair sat squarely across from her, a coffee table topped with a hastily assembled platter of crackers in between them.

“I did,” he affirmed. And then paused, once again.

She was trying to be patient, but gods was the man driving her up the wall. Numair had been at his most absentminded from the moment she’d arrived, putting a pot of tea on the fire to heat for them but forgetting and burning it, daydreaming, and losing track of what they were talking about as soon as she brought up a topic.

“So?” she prompted, not at her friendliest.

He let out a breath. “It’s just—I wanted to ask you—I’ve been thinking.” He paused.

“Numair, out with it!”

"I think I’m falling for Daine.”

 She took a second to absorb what he considered news. “You think you’re . . . fall _ing_?”

 “Hmm?”

 “I'd say you're pretty much fallen at this point. Are you only noticing this now?”

 “It’s an inappropriate thing to notice at all. She’s my student, and protégé. I should be treating her . . . impartially, like any student of mine. Think what would happen if people thought we’d been together in some way this whole time, that I only advocate on her behalf because of . . . that. “

“Hang on, she’s no student of yours at this point any more than I am. And there’s no requirement that you have to treat your friends ‘impartially,’ whatever that means. I know I favor you the hell over Jon at the moment, for example.”

"That’s not nearly the same, and I don’t think you’re listening.”

Alanna sat up straight. “I don’t need to listen,” she replied tartly. “You’re skirting the issue. The question isn’t how the people of the court will react to this. It’s whether you’re invested enough in the idea of a romantic relationship to risk your friendship for it.”

“There’s a great deal more to it than that, actually. There’s her youth. The discrepancy of . . . experience between us. Our friendship. Our professional relationship. How this could affect the trajectory of her career, should ‘the people of the court’ look upon this in a certain way. Tortall’s diplomatic relations abroad. The perception of wild magic within the broader community—”

“Mithros. Just say you’re scared to jump without a net, will you? Are you in love with the girl or aren’t you?”

He examined the portion of the room visible above her right shoulder, fixing his gaze on a potted plant sitting by the window. Alanna grinned, suddenly childish. Numair, her little player, fallen in love.

“You are!” she pushed his chest gently.

“Al _anna_.” His eyes snapped back to her, pleading.

“Goddess bless. You’re in deeper than I thought!”

The man leaned back and sipped from his glass, feigning calm best he could. “Are you done? Because I’m looking for advice here, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“Maybe.” Alanna struggled to rein herself in. “So all right, let me get this straight. You finally figured out you’re in love with Daine, and you came to tell me, the girliest girl in the realm . . . to hear my womanly advice?”

“It was a last resort, I’ll admit.”

“You couldn’t resist my dazzling guidance-giving charms? My well-known fondness for all things romantic and tender? Really, though.”

“Really, first, you know Daine and I both. And you’re a woman, second.” He rolled his eyes over-dramatically, stretching out the next word. “Teccchhnically, anyway.” Quieting. “And you’ve. . .  successfully navigated waters like these before. Friendships becoming different, with additional factors at stake. I’d appreciate your input.”

“My input.” Sobering to his cause. “Right. My advice for you.” Her voice softened. “My advice is to tell that monologue in your head to take a hike, for once, you stretch-legged nitwit. And ask yourself the only question that matters instead: Are you brave enough to do it? To really jump?”

Numair mused on that a moment. “I’m worried you’re oversimplifying this.”

“You asked for my thoughts, moron. You can take it from someone who’s been there, or you can go figure it out your damn self.” She crossed her arms. He said nothing, musing again. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll have you know that if you ever do anything to make her uncomfortable, you can she’ll come girl-talk about it to me and I can come storming down here with something to say to you. How about that?”

For the first time since she’d arrived at his tower, Numair cracked a smile. “I do think Daine’d be able to find better girlfriends to talk to than you, even if I can’t.”

Alanna smiled back and harrumphed, putting on her best Gallan accent. “Don’t be silly, mage. Ain’t no one better at givin’ girls advice than this here two-legger.”

“You sound nothing like Daine.”

“And yet you love me anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> My little ode, as is everything, to That Chapter in ROTG. But also, reader, not to be a super drag, but please remember unbalanced age difference/power-dynamic relationships generally aren’t cool, and this one only works because the characters are magical angel godschildren with lawful (/chaotic) good moralities. Do not take relationship advice given by fictional characters from a made-up world to heart, whether it’s imparted in dialogue posted on a fanfiction website, published in a novel written in the almost-feminist ‘90s, or found elsewhere out in that wide wide world or worldwide web.


End file.
